The Incarnation of Twin Sala
by Yukitarina
Summary: A flower blooms...and then withers...


**Disclaimer: I do not own Saint Seiya characters**

**The Incarnation of Twin Sala**

He felt excruciate pains when the blow hit his body. The blow which was done by those who'd come back from the land of the deaths. Yet even though the three said they had put their allegiances to Hades, he still had a faith in them. Gold Saints would always be loyal to Athena, no matter how much they hated her.

The pain spread widely through his veins. He knew he would only have less than five minutes to live when his Treasures of Heavens blocked by the immense attack. But he wouldn't accept death with frown. There was smile on his face, the serene one. He wouldn't follow death with fear; instead he stood up with huge endurance. He wouldn't follow death with anger; instead he walked calmly to Twin Salas without the slightest vengeance. The wind blew his long blond hair in elegance mood; let him showered by the petals of the beautiful flowers. Gladly they accompanied his path to death, correlated themselves with the colour of his hair, the hue of his eyes…

Then he arrived there near the Twin Salas. Thinking deeply about how short the lives of beings were._ A flower blooms…and then withers…. _He was born, then getting adult. Yet, as he had said, during the instant moment humans were crying, laughing, fighting, love someone, hate someone…everything that was kind of unlikely to be done in such diminutive time…

And he taught his disciples, he fought the Bronze Saints, the Gold Saints, the Specters, even gods…yet here he was, finally gave up on the law of the universe. Finally stepped to the door in which nobody could come back. Finally he admitted once again, that he was _the created, _not _The Creator_.

He never wanted to divulge it, but he possessed flesh and blood, and _heart. _He was just the same with the _beings _he mentioned: he loved. He loved the world, Athena, his fellows, the Bronze Saints, even the three bastards who had launched the unforgivable blows to him: Athena Exclamation. And he would do anything in order he could give his involvement to this fierce battle, even though it meant he had to release his credit as "the man closest to god".

He settled tranquil when he poured his blood on the petals of the flowers. The flowers which once bloomed, then soon would wither. Then he let the flowers brought by the winds, flew to the sky, entrusted his last words on them. The man who once closest to god, entrusted his last words to the fragile flowers…

His eyes watched the sky for the last time before he at last closed his eyes. Now he truly closed his eyes, not because of his immense power, but because he had been _powerless_. At last…he passed away. And tears flew from the eyes of the three bastards. Regrets and laments covered their hearts, intoxicated their minds, when they saw that the virtuous man had gone…had turned into sparkling and pure stardust.

Then he continued his steps to Elysion, accompanied his beloved goddess to defeat her enemy there. Then he came back to Inferno, with his toughness and strength he threw a trident right to Hades's heart. Then he sat with his leg-crossed in front of the Wailing Wall to destroy it even though it would be unquestionably improbable.

Then he met his fellows again…his late fellows, also the three bastards who had killed him, the unforgivable bastards who was attacking him with that unforgivable blast. But he felt no anger, no vengeance. Once again, no vengeance. Instead, he smiled at them, sincerely, happily…because he knew that they had to experience excruciating agony when they defeated him. Because they didn't mean to assassinate him, and they would never do. And he felt joys in his heart as he saw them wearing their Gold Cloths, not the damned and the cursed surplices.

And he would die once again, for his goddess, for the world, for his faiths to his fellows, for his destiny… He would die once again, leaving his Gold Cloth to be worn by the youngster, but yet…

…smile never left his face. He knew that his death was worthwhile. Above all, he stood there in the middle of those he loved most. His fellows. His friends. _Beings. _The same as himself.

Farewell then…

Farewell to his body, but not to his soul.

Because he would always be remembered, as the images of the beautiful Twin Sala trees…

So farewell to your body…

…but not to your soul.

**The End**


End file.
